


A Heart Made Whole

by quartetship



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, Galra!Keith, Implied past torture, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Rated for Eventual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, implied past sexual assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peace can never exist in a heart that cannot hold it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about the fan theory of Galra!Keith, as well as about these boys in particular, so here is my version of that theory, played out across multiple chapters. (Please be sure to check tags and ratings as we go - they're both likely to change!)
> 
> This first chapter was inspired by two wonderful pieces of art. The first is [this piece](https://twitter.com/cissilian/status/751937496112660481) by [Cata](https://twitter.com/cissilian), and the second is [this one](https://twitter.com/GloryCat/status/751859038791532544) by [Glory Cat](https://twitter.com/GloryCat)! Thank you both so much for the inspiration!
> 
> Please enjoy this first chapter, and be sure to let me know what you think! :)

\--

“The scanners show them in this sector, this way!”

Footsteps grew louder as Lance’s soft groans began to fade. Keith scrambled over to where he lay, bruised and bleeding and very, very still. 

Just a few rooms away, half a dozen Galra soldiers lay knocked out or worse, courtesy of both his and Lance’s sheer will to escape. The plan from the moment that he and the other Paladins had been taken prisoner had been for each of them to get back to their lions by any means necessary, to get out and get back to the castle, and he and Lance had taken that directive very seriously. Keith was aching, fairly certain a few ribs and fingers were broken, but he didn't have time to worry about them. Lance was much worse for wear, collapsed and unmoving. 

“Lance!  _ Lance _ \- buddy, you gotta get up. We've gotta move, now!” Keith hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to lift his teammate, but Lance’s weight was like that of a dead man, despite the fact that he was, at least, still breathing. He winced against Keith’s straining and lifted a hand to press against his chest, weak and winded. 

“Can't, Red. You gotta get out. Without me.” He spoke in breathy bits of sentence, words soft at the edges, and Keith could barely hear him over his own pulse thundering in his ears. He wasn't sure where the rest of his team was, or if they were even still alive. But Lance still was, and escaping with him still breathing became Keith’s only priority. He had to get them back to their lions, back to  _ his,  _ at least. 

Technically, Keith wasn't actually sure where their lions were -  _ any _ of them. But after many battles at the controls of the red lion, he knew he'd be able to locate it by feel, there in the twisting halls of the Galra ship they were trapped on, if only he could get himself and Lance moving again. He drew Lance closer to him, breath catching in his throat when he heard the clicking of laser guns powering up as the approaching footsteps echoed off the nearby walls. 

“Please, Lance - we have to go,  _ both _ of us. I'll carry you, just  _ please,  _ come on!” It was barely more than a whisper, but Lance heard him. He looked up at Keith, swallowing, and then shook his head. 

“Really can't. Think I'm done, man.” His eyes fluttered closed; Keith took hold of his face, squeezing harder than he should have. 

“You can't. Be. Done.” He grunted, still trying to gather Lance into his arms to lift him. It was no use. Lance was larger than Keith, and deadweight; he simply couldn't lift him.  _ If they were in their armor, he could call for help,  _ Keith thought vainly. If only they'd been able to keep their communicators, he could have begged for Shiro to come and carry Lance to safety. But as it was, they weren't; the Galra hadn't done them the kindness of allowing them to suit up before taking them prisoner. Terrified, Keith felt hope leaving him. He shook Lance, hard. 

“Lance. Buddy.  _ Please.” _

At that, Lance yelped softly, letting his hand fall from Keith’s chest to his own waist, wrapping it there and cringing at what was undoubtedly unbearable pain. Even in their worst moments, Keith had never seen Lance entirely immobilized. Now that they needed to move or be killed though, he was, and as harsh, angry voices drew nearer to where they were hiding, Keith knew they would be the last he would likely ever hear. 

Shuffling them backward toward the machinery behind them as best he could, Keith pulled Lance to his chest, letting him bury his face there, intent to at least protect him from having to see their demise coming. Lance clenched his jaw hard and whimpered pitifully at the pain of being moved, but he seemed more than willing to let himself be held. 

They both knew what was coming. 

“M’not leaving you, okay?” Keith said, quiet and quick, and Lance barely had time to nod once into his chest before they were surrounded, Galra soldiers flooding the room. They fixed the aim of their weapons on Keith as he glared defiantly back at them, no doubt waiting for a command to fire. Eyes darting between them, Keith noticed that several were smiling savagely down at him and Lance; they were amused, satisfied -  _ enjoying _ themselves. 

Something in him snapped. 

The hard set of his jaw tightened even further, as Keith felt a furious growl rolling up from somewhere deep in his chest. His lips pulled back on their own accord, and his teeth  _ hurt,  _ they were clenched so tightly together. There was fire behind his eyes that he could  _ feel,  _ burning its way through to the despicable creatures looking down at him. His ears burned too, and he could feel the dull ache of his impossibly tight jaw, creeping up the sides of his face to meet them, searing its way across his skin. 

Suddenly, the weapons posting down at him wavered. Half the soldiers looked shocked - the others almost frightened. 

“What is he - how is he  _ doing _ that?!” One of them growled. “Is this Druid magic?!” They quickly trained their aim on where Keith sat again, but not one of them made a move to fire. When finally one of them spoke again, it was their commander, entering from behind the rest. He looked down at Keith like he was some sort of wild animal, motioning for the others to stand their ground, still not signaling them to fire. 

“Get a message to Emperor Zarkon,” he said to a soldier hovering behind him, his eyes not leaving Keith’s snarling face. He fixed his own weapon to aim at Keith, kneeling down a few yards away, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked him over. 

Boiling with rage that threatened to blind him, Keith hissed in his direction, clutching Lance to him, tighter still. It was hard to see for a moment, then suddenly everything around him came sharply into focus, and he was aware of a patchy violet hue, spreading across his face and beginning to creep down his neck and chest. He didn't pull his hands away from Lance to look at it; for all he knew it was bruising, or a trick of the strange lighting. But he could almost  _ hear _ his own skin crawling in disgust at the satisfied way the commander was looking at him, his ears still burning and hypersensitive. 

The soldier taking note from the commander bent low to examine Keith as well, and Keith had to resist the urge to leap across the room and attack them both. 

“What shall I tell him, sir? Lord Zarkon is aware that we have all of the Paladins and their lions here. There is no need to--”

“He is not aware of  _ this _ one,” the commander said sharply, before standing again, his weapon still aimed squarely at Keith. “And he may wish to make use of him, once he knows.”

“Sir,” the other soldier said compliantly, nodding. “What message exactly shall I send?” 

“Tell him,” the commander smiled darkly, laughing through his nose when Keith sneered viciously in response, “That the red lion’s Paladin might be of some use to us, moving forward. Tell him-” he stepped closer, looking Keith up and down, as if to be sure, before nodding - “That this one looks to be of  _ Galra _ blood.”

The second soldier moved to leave, and the commanding officer signaled the others to apprehend Keith. Drawing closer, it became obvious that they had no intention of taking Lance along. One of the creatures kicked Lance sharply to move him, knocking him from Keith’s arms, and finally Keith couldn't hold himself back, and longer. Lashing out, he was caught by the arm, hauled from the floor by it, and it was then that he noticed something that left him paralyzed for a beat. 

His hand unfurled from what had been a tightly curled fist, to reveal dark, pointed fingertips and hooked claws. He gasped, frightened and confused, and then he was falling to the floor again, just as quickly as he'd been jerked up from it. With a painful thud, Keith landed and looked up, just in time to see the flash of yellow as Hunk’s lion barreled into the room, destroying the entrance and the wall around it, and sending most of the soldiers flying.

“Take the pilot out!” The commander shouted, but before the remaining soldiers could fire more than a few blasts, the black lion burst in from the opposite side, with much the same effect. With the entire squad of soldiers scrambling to get back to their feet and back to where Keith was hovering near Lance, it was easy for Pidge to capitalize on the confusion and slip in all but unnoticed, blocking their way and bringing the green lion’s mouth down to allow Keith a place to run. 

In the moment, Keith turned back to Lance and scooped him up from the floor with relative ease. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, no doubt surging through him as he bolted into the mouth of Pidge’s lion, but whatever force might have been assisting him, it gave out once they were inside, and Keith fell to the floor with Lance still cradled in his arms, exhausted, overwhelmed, and very,  _ very _ confused. 

The next few moments were a blur, and as his consciousness faded in and out, Keith couldn't be sure if they were there for mere seconds more, or if Pidge and the others fought for much, much longer to escape, but escape they did, and the world as he knew it went blissfully black at the sight of open space. 

\--

His next memory was of waking up back at the castle, disoriented, but alive. 

“Keith?  _ Keith?”  _

The voice he heard first was Allura’s, and the fear that was audible in it reminded him that he hadn't merely been asleep. Somehow they'd survived their imprisonment with the Galra, and escaped to boot, but he could scarcely remember any firm details, beyond those facts. 

And Lance. Where was  _ Lance? _

“Keith - can you hear us?” Shiro said firmly. Blinking, Keith nodded, his vision still fuzzy. It was Hunk who spoke, next. 

“What happened to you?”

“I dunno,” Keith choked out, but his voice was hardly recognizable as his own. It was raspy and raw, but he was fairly certain he'd been screaming, at some point. Or maybe it was Lance who'd been screaming. 

Where  _ was _ Lance?”

“M’fine, though,” Keith slurred, impatiently, “Where’s Lance?”

There was silence for a moment, and it alarmed him. Keith shook his head, blinking until he could focus, and looked around to find all of the others staring back at him, fear on their faces. Everyone but  _ Lance.  _

“Where  _ is _ he?” Keith demanded, almost growling. “Is he okay? Alive?!”

“Lance is alright, Keith” Shiro finally replied, and Keith could feel some of the tension building in his chest release. Shiro’s words were reassuring, but his cold and calculated tone was not one Keith was accustomed to; Shiro stood more than an arm’s length away, too far for Keith to reach out to, staring uneasily down at him where he sat. It was only then that Keith realized he was on a medical examination table - and his feet and legs were restrained. 

“Shiro -  _ guys,  _ what the hell?!” He tore frantically at the restraints binding his legs, but they shocked his hands, and only then did he understand. Only then did he  _ remember.  _

His hands were darker than they had been, even in the Galra ship, a deep, mottled mess of violet and indigo that ended in clawed fingertips. They shook as Keith looked down at them, horrified. 

“What… What happened t-to...” 

“That's what we're trying to figure out,” Shiro said plainly. “We just needed to make sure you were really you, and that you didn't hurt yourself, once you woke up.”

“Or anyone else, right?” Keith asked quietly. He looked up at Shiro and the others; none of them argued the point. 

“I'm… I'm  _ me,”  _ Keith mumbled, not sure how to even prove himself to them. “But if you need to keep me here until you figure out what's happening… That's okay. I understand. I just - can  _ anyone _ tell me about Lance?”

His voice wavered, and tears burnt their way down his cheeks. No one moved for a moment, and when Pidge finally did, it was obviously against everyone else’s better judgement; the group gasped, as a whole. Pidge gave them all an irritated, sideways glance before turning back to face Keith. 

“Lance is in a cryo recovery pod,” Pidge said, warmer and gentler than anyone had spoken to Keith since he'd awoken. “He's resting, and he'll be okay. He should be out soon. Just a few more ticks, you know? Maybe this time, he’ll even remember you cradling him in your arms.” Pidge smiled, and reached out to wipe away Keith’s tears. Keith reached up to return the favor on impulse, hand stilling for a moment when he caught sight of it, but Pidge leaned forward and welcomed his touch, and Keith felt more tears threatening to fall. 

“If you'd like, I can take these off,” Allura offered, motioning at the glowing restraints that held Keith’s legs in place. Keith considered them for a moment, then shook his head. 

“No, you guys were right. Not until we figure out what's going on with me. I… I don't wanna make anybody uncomfortable. Or hurt anyone.”

“Do you think you would?” Shiro asked, and his voice was careful, but less cold than it had been moments before. Keith shook his head. 

“No. But I also don't know what's happening, and I don't want to out any of you in danger. I'll stay here, tonight.”

“You're gonna sleep with those things on?!” Hunk asked. Keith shrugged and nodded. 

“I'm a heavy sleeper,” he said, and there was a hint of laughter from the others at large, easing his fear. “Just bring me a pillow or whatever.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, but I think you'd better sleep in a cryo pod tonight, instead.” Coran made his way down to the control panel at the end of the table that Keith sat on, deactivating his restraints. There was a beat of silence, and then the others were surrounding him. 

“I'll help you take him down there,” Shiro offered. When Keith looked back at him, slightly offended, he clarified. “I’m still not sure he can walk, and I don't want you to have to carry him yourself. You get the pod ready, I'll get him down there.”

At least Shiro’s offer of assistance wasn't out of fear of Keith hurting Coran or the others, at least not entirely. Keith sighed, as relieved as he could be, in the moment. Reluctantly, he reached for Shiro, careful to keep his new claws curled in and to himself. Shiro’s arms were strong and steady, a warm and welcome change from everything Keith had felt for hours, days before then. He let himself relax against his chest. A few minutes later, Shiro was placing him gingerly into a pod, wishing him goodnight. 

“Maybe this will help with whatever’s going on,” he suggested, “But if it doesn't, we’ll go from there when you're awake, alright? Get some rest, and let the pod do its job. Coran thinks you've got a few broken bones, but nothing on Lance, and he's coming along just fine.”

“He’ll be alright then, right?” Keith asked quickly, willing himself not to grab Shiro by the arm for comfort. Shiro nodded, and reached for him, instead. 

_ “Both _ of you will. Now get some sleep.” He squeezed Keith’s arm, and offered him a small, tired smile, and the next thing Keith knew, the world was going soft and black at the edges again, and then there was only sweet silence. 

\--

The quiet exhaust of the cryo pod opening to release him early the next morning was a pleasant wake up call. 

Stumbling out onto still-shaky legs, he took a moment to get his bearings, then looked around. Out of sorts as he still felt, he also felt better, no longer aching from head to toe as he had been before resting. Across the room, Lance was still sleeping peacefully in his own pod. Keith approached it, just watching. 

“Shouldn't be much longer, now.” A voice behind him startled him slightly, and Keith turned on his heel to see Shiro hovering a few feet away. Keith crossed his arms tightly over his chest, nodding. 

“I'm glad he's okay.” Turning to look back at Lance again, Keith caught sight of himself - his face - for the first time in days, and stumbled backward, horrified. 

His eyes were  _ yellow,  _ with no pupils or irises, only solid, glowing amber in the soft light of the medical bay. His entire face was purple, but rather than swollen like bruised skin, his features were just as pointed and sharp as ever, perhaps more so. His ears as he knew them were gone, replaced by two large, catlike  _ monstrosities _ on either side of his head, and when he brought his hands up on reflex to touch them, to feel their foreign softness, he saw that the color of his skin was different, everywhere. 

Barely able to breathe, Keith looked back at Shiro again, stammering. 

“It didn't get better,” he murmured, feeling almost faint. “It's… I'm a  _ monster. _ I'm.  _ How?!” _

“We don't know,” Shiro answered honestly. “And I'm not sure we're going to figure it out, anytime soon. Whatever happened, it seems to have been organic, and that's all Coran and Allura have been able to find, so far. But what's important is that you're otherwise okay.”

“Okay?!” Keith yelped, his throat tight. “Look at me! I'm not even human! I’m - Shiro, I’m an  _ alien!”  _

Shiro shook his head, stepping closer. “You're still  _ you,  _ Keith.”

Before Keith could argue, the same gentle whirring that had awoken him sounded again, and he turned to see Lance’s cryo pod opening. Heart leaping into his throat, Keith panicked at the thought of Lance seeing him the way he was, especially first thing after waking up. 

Without thinking, Keith darted from the room, running full force toward his bedroom, and slamming the door closed behind him when he finally reached it. 

It took a few minutes, but the inevitable knock did finally come, and Keith grumbled a warning to go away. He didn't need Shiro giving him a pep talk when he was trying just to wrap his brain around what was happening to him, tears falling hard and fast. But it wasn't Shiro’s voice that asked to enter. 

“Keith? Buddy? Can I come in?”

It was Lance on the other side of the door, and as much as Keith wanted to wrap his arms around him and thank him for being alive, he couldn't bring himself to face him. Keith took a seat on the edge of his bed, and turned away from the door just as the knob clicked and Lance entered the room. 

“Keith? Can I… Shiro already told me what's going on for the most part, so - can I just  _ see _ you? Please?”

“You don't  _ want _ to,” Keith mumbled, trying to still his shaking voice. “Trust me.”

“I do, though.” Lance wasn't really arguing; his voice was careful and quiet. Still, Shiro was soon there too, gently dissuading him. 

“Don't bother him if he needs a little space right now, okay? He's had a rough couple of days, and--”

“You say that like I'm the only one,” Keith snapped, in spite of himself, and turned around, pointedly looking only at Shiro. “Because of me, everyone was terrified yesterday, Lance nearly died, and the Galra have two of the lions. We can't form Voltron, we can't even…” He trailed off, closing his eyes. He heard the others approaching, but he only drew in on himself, shaking his head. “It's all my fault. Everything. I don't belong here anymore. I'm… I'm one of them.”

“No!” Lance said sharply, and Keith’s eyes snapped open. “None of this is your fault, and - Keith,  _ look _ at me!” Lance was only a few feet away from him, hands out like he meant to grab for Keith. Doing as he asked, Keith looked him in the eye, horrified by the thought of how he must look to him. Lance didn't flinch, though. His determined expression never changed, even as he lurched forward and grabbed Keith by both wrists. “Listen, you stubborn ass. You did nothing wrong, okay? You saved my life. If it weren't for you, we'd both have been dead before the others even got to us. If anything, I slowed us down, but that's not the point.”

“Then what is?” Keith asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Lance sat down on the edge of the bed, beside him, still holding his arms. 

“The point is, I don't  _ care _ about this.” His thumbs stroked over Keith’s wrists in small circled. “I don't care what you look like, or what you think you are. None of us do.” He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, tears welling in his eyes to match the ones that refused to stop falling from Keith’s. “All I care about is  _ who _ you are, and that you're still here. The rest - we’ll figure it out.”

Lance huffed a laugh, his breath warm across the tear tracks on Keith’s face, and then he was pressing a kiss there, soft and slow and more sincere than anything Keith had ever felt from him. 

For a moment, panic tightened Keith’s chest again. No one else knew about the  _ sort-of-thing _ he and Lance had, or at least they'd never told anyone about it. This was hardly the time to discuss it. But Lance seemed too happy to be holding him to care that Shiro was still in the room with him, and Shiro himself didn't seem bothered in the least. If anything, he almost seemed pleased to see the tenderness in their touch. 

He took a seat on the bed as well, behind both Keith and Lance, letting an arm gently fall around each of them. 

“Lance  _ loves _ you, Keith,” he said quietly, finally sounding as warm as he usually did. “We all do, in our own ways. You  _ know _ that, and that hasn't changed. It isn't going to. We're a family. And regardless of what happens, you'll never be one of them. You're one of us.”

Keith shook, too weak to even nod, with Lance still holding him by the arms, face pressed to his as Shiro pulled both of them in to him. It was nice, despite the circumstance; Keith hadn't imagined it would ever be okay to want something like that, to enjoy being held by both Shiro  _ and _ Lance, but in the moment, he was too shaken to do anything  _ but _ relax into it. It felt right,  _ complete.  _ There was another feeling too, that Keith could not name, welling in his chest. It was new, and it was frightening, but it was also more comforting than anything had ever been. 

It was a strange sort of satisfaction, happiness, despite everything.

With Lance and Shiro on either side of him - and the rest of their hodgepodge little family of teammates and friends, too - Keith knew he could survive whatever it was that was happening to him. It wouldn't be painless or simple, he was certain, especially if the last few days had been any indication. But then, little had, since they'd left earth's atmosphere that first time. This would be just one more confusing, overwhelming aspect of life - par for the course of being a paladin, it seemed.

Lance and Shiro were right, though; they could figure it out as a team - as a  _ family _ \- somehow. Keith believed that. As long as he had the others, it didn't really matter what was going on.

They would get through it, together. 

He closed his eyes and just  _ breathed, _ safe and secure, at least for the moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and what you might like to see in future chapters!
> 
> Find me on [twitter](twitter.com/_quartetship_)!  
> Find me on [tumblr](quartetship.tumblr.com)!


	2. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if he was right - what if he was more of a burden to team Voltron now than an asset?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you guys so much for the incredible response to the first chapter of this story. I hope you'll enjoy the rest. Things are gonna be a bit rough for a little while, but those of you that know me from previous fandoms know that I always fix what I break. 
> 
> Enjoy the update, and please be sure to check the newly added tags!

\--

The first night back in his own bed, Keith struggled with sleep.

It wasn't for lack of trying, on his part. Or his teammates’. Both Shiro and Lance camped out in Keith’s bedroom, napping in turns from their places on his floor and at the foot of his bed. Keith worried that they were losing out on rest needlessly. 

Neither would hear a word of his protests.

“You honestly think we’re just gonna throw you in here for the night and let you brood or whatever the hell it is you do in here, all by yourself? Not even I hate you that much.” Lance’s tone was the usual, all sharply pointed jokes with a tongue poked out in Keith’s direction to punctuate his sentiment. But his eyes didn't linger on Keith for more than a beat, and Keith couldn't be sure if Lance was simply tired - or something else. Still, he was genuine in his intent, long legs folded awkwardly as he sat sideways at the foot of Keith’s bed, a blanket thrown artlessly across his lap, grinning at Keith with every attempt at reassurance.

Shiro voiced his agreement without saying an actual word, reaching up from the floor beside Keith’s bed to squeeze his arm. His smile was bright in the dim lot of the room, and Keith’s stomach fluttered and flipped at the sight. It didn't last long; he, too, only looked at Keith for a moment. But when he seemed to think Keith wasn't watching him anymore, his eyes locked with Lance’s, and they traded a long look that gave Keith little reason for comfort. 

But they were  _ there, _ beside him, and regardless of what they might be feeling, they wanted him to be at ease. 

So he did the best he could. 

Beneath clawed fingers and skin that was noticeably tougher in some places and covered in tufts of soft fur in others, even Keith’s pillows and blankets felt foreign. He swallowed at the realization. Nothing felt the same - nothing  _ was _ the same. The variance of his flesh reminded him of the treacherous expanse of space outside the castle windows, darker in spots and lighter across other, speckled stretches, shades of lavender fading into inky indigo and swirling like distant galaxies across the backs of his knuckles. 

How could he rest in a body that no longer felt like his own? How could he close his eyes, knowing that everything would still look so strange, when he opened them? 

Keith had no answers, and he had no intention of voicing his questions. Forgoing conversation that he knew would only wrench tears from him, he passed the time waiting for sleep to find him by letting himself feel every difference, head to toe, and hope that they would all be merely temporary. From ears that made side sleeping troublesome, to heightened senses of hearing and smell that left him acutely aware of the others in his room, Keith’s new body seemed to have no intention of letting his mind rest. 

When Allura and Coran began to stir for the day, he finally had an excuse to put an end to his futile attempt at sleep. 

He left his teammates where they lay snoozing and slipped out of his room to find some way to busy his restless body, and bring peace to his mind. 

\--

Breakfast seemed more like lunch, by the time everyone had made it to the table. 

Lance was visibly irritated that Keith had ducked out of his room that morning, but Shiro just eyed him quietly, with the worried look of a concerned caregiver. Regardless of what end of the spectrum the others were on in regards to the range of emotions they undoubtedly felt about the situation, one thing was undeniable, that morning over breakfast. 

Every eye was fixed on Keith. 

“So we’ll need to divide our focus today,” Shiro prompted, when awkward, idle chatter began to wane. For a moment, the team looked to him, and Keith audibly sighed with relief. “We need to figure out exactly what’s going on with Keith, and what kind of accommodations he might need moving forward, and we also need to come up with a plan to get our lions back.”

“Accommodations?” Keith repeated. Again, every gaze fell on him. “I don't need any special treatment, Shiro. I don't want to be more of a problem than I already have been.”

“You're not a problem.” The words would have been Shiro’s, if Lance hadn't beaten him to them. “The only problem is that those Galra assholes took our lions, and did this to you, and now we need to--”

“No one did this to me,” Keith argued. “This just happened. You were there, don't you…” He stopped himself, the memory of the condition that Lance was in while Keith was suffering through his transition settling like a lead weight in his stomach. Reaching up to rub at his temples, he stopped himself short there, too; claws grazed his skin, leaving him shuddering. “Look, I don't know why this happened, but there's no one to blame for it, okay? It just… happened. And now you guys all have to deal with it and I'm - I'm sorry.”

Keith stood, rising from the table, and Shiro and Lance were both on their feet just as quick. It was Coran’s voice, though, that gave Keith reason for pause.

“You're right, Keith. As I said before, what happened to you seems to have been entirely organic. Something that was always in there, waiting to come out. But we still need to figure out exactly what, and why, so we understand your situation a bit better.”

“There isn't a situation - I'm not a lab experiment, okay?! I know you guys wanna poke and prod some more, but don't you think I got enough of that yesterday? Don't you think I might be sick of being the big, purple elephant in the room yet?”

Kicking his chair backward, Keith stepped away from the table. Coran didn't so much as blink at his outburst. He waited while the other paladins panicked, clearing his throat once Keith seemed finished. 

“You're not an experiment, Keith. You're a paladin. You're part of our team, first and foremost. What's happened to you doesn't change that, and it doesn't change you. We just need to know what we’re dealing with, so we can help make it easier on you.”

“I don't need help,” Keith gritted out. There was a shout of his name, a loud reprimand that left the others as startled as he was; Shiro had raised his voice. 

“That's the only problem here, Keith. You really believe that you're placing a burden on the rest of us by allowing us to help you through this. But that's what a team does. That's what a family does. Don't you-” Shiro stopped, swallowed hard before he pressed on, looking Keith square in the face - “Don't you think I would've been better off if someone had been there for me when I needed them to?” He raised his right arm - his Galra arm - to make his point. Stomach twisting, Keith shook his head. 

“You know I would've been there if I could. I would've taken your place if I could have!” 

“Then let us be there for you,” Shiro insisted. Casting a glance around the room at the others, he then looked back at Keith, his expression softening, edged with sadness. “Please, Keith. You would do it for me, for any of us. Let us be here for you through this.”

With no option save for accepting things as they were, Keith was quiet for a moment. He could feel eyes on him, a sensation that was quickly becoming familiar. Finally, if for no other reason than to lift some of that weight, he nodded, and took a seat at the table again. 

There was a lingering silence as everyone else did the same, but then Coran was outlining what sort of help he would need from each of them, and Allura was making mission plans, and everything returned to some semblance of normal. At least for a few minutes, there was nothing but team Voltron around him, sitting at a table over plates of green goop, making plans and talking like teammates and friends. 

Keith tuned out the pulsing of a dull headache and the aches of his strangely reformed body and focused solely on the matters at hand. 

\--

With blood taken, tissue sampled and every aspect of his new physiology being carefully tested and studied by Coran and the Altean technology as his disposal, Keith held out hope that his condition would be short lived. Surely there was a remedy, something that could be done that would bring him back to what he'd been before. But as the battery of tests wore on, the flame of hope he was carefully guarding began to die. 

Ever chipper, Coran struck a sharp contrast to Keith as they shared laboratory space, Coran coaching him through examination after examination, offering pleasant if not slightly strange chatter to pass the time. After half a dozen tests, he stood over a screen, scrolling sideways and back as he studied the results, frowning for the first time all day.

“According to every form of diagnostic test this laboratory is capable of, you're in near perfect physical condition. So at least, strictly speaking, there's nothing  _ wrong _ with you.”

“Well  _ that's _ good news,” Keith deadpanned. “I guess it could be worse, but… I don't really care if I'm healthy. That's what the cryo pods are for. I just wanna get my old body back as soon as possible, so I can stop looking like Zarkon’s bastard son.”

“I'm afraid this isn't a temporary condition, Keith. Genetically speaking, you haven't changed. It appears that in response to the stress you were under while in custody of the Galra, your body adapted by  _ mutating _ on a cellular level, and your physicality was altered because of it. You look Galran because you  _ are _ Galran, at least partially, and you always have been. Simply put, I don't think your appearance is something that we’re going to be able to change.” With that Coran went back to prodding at the screen in front of him, as if he'd said nothing of more importance than reciting a family recipe. Keith stared after him, shell shocked and waiting for him to say something else, anything else, but there was nothing to add.

He swallowed, letting the reality wash over him, let it threaten to drown him. He didn't just look like the personification of evil - genetically speaking, he was  _ related _ to it. The perceived walls that had clearly separated his world and that of the monsters he had been fighting for months began to think until he couldn't see them anymore. The new reality of his life was that he wasn't so different from that which he had come to hate, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. 

There would be no going back. His only option was moving forward, into a future where his steps would be unlit and uncertain.

Coran continued his work, making notes of how Keith’s armor might need to be altered, his helmet adjusted to suit him properly. He took measurements and chattered away, taking notice of Keith’s bare hands and promising to design a new pair of gloves to suit his larger fingers. It was all very considerate, very cheerful and optimistic, but Keith couldn't bring himself to behave similarly. 

Sitting in silence, he closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe, just surviving from one beat of his heart to the next, until Coran finally dismissed him.

\--

Tired and beyond frustrated with the body that housed his weary spirit, Keith made his way down the halls that led to the communal rooms of the castle, wondering if he might find some of the other paladins. Though he wasn't usually one to seek it out, stumbling upon some moral support sounded like a pleasant way to bring his evening to a close. He dared to believe that Shiro and Lance had been right, the first night they'd looked him in his strange, new amber eyes and told him that they'd be beside him, and that together, they would help him navigate the unknown. Theirs were the presences he craved, with a whisper of hope that they might want to pull him in close and speak reassurance to him, after his long day. 

For a moment, he even let himself believe he  _ deserved _ that reassurance.

As he passed the halls that led to the sleeping quarters on his way to the sitting area, he did indeed hear voices. But the closer he came to their source, the less certain he was that he wanted to hear what they were saying. 

“It's not his fault, obviously. Just… the way he  _ looks, _ lately. It's too much.”

The voice was unmistakably Shiro’s, and as soon as Keith was able to make out the words he was saying, he knew who Shiro was talking about. Only one person’s appearance had drastically changed recently, after all. He pushed himself against a nearby wall, motionless so that he could hear the conversation better.

“It's understandable, though,” a second voice responded. It was Pidge. Keith heard Shiro hum in agreement, then sigh after a long stretch of silence. 

“I know it is, and that's why I won't talk to him about it. It’s not his fault. He can't change it, and I don't want him to feel like I expect him to. It's just that… Everytime I look at him, I see  _ them,  _ and I remember--”

Pidge interrupted, with a tone that was comforting and sympathetic. “I know. I know, and I know that's hard. If anyone understands…”

Words faded as Keith turned on his heel, fumbling along the wall as if he might fall without its support. He didn't wait to hear the rest of their conversation. With his throat in a painful knot, he ran for his room, praying that he wouldn't encounter anyone on the way. He wasn't sure exactly what he looked like, with tears leaving tracks of indigo over pale violet skin, but he was certain it wasn't a pretty sight, and definitely not one he wanted anyone else to see. 

If he could, he would keep any of them from ever having to see his face again, he thought. But it was hardly a rational wish, and even as he rounded the corner to head down the hallway that led to his sleeping quarters, Lance spotted him and approached without pause. 

“Don't,” Keith warned, and to his credit, Lance paused for all of a few seconds before stepping forward anyway. As soon as he was within an arm’s length of Keith he was reaching toward him, hand outstretched to wipe at obvious tears.

“What's wrong, red ranger?” He said, mouth quirked into a soft smile. Though he teased, there was tenderness in his voice that caught Keith off guard, always strange to hear in public spaces. 

“I hate myself,” Keith spat, unthinking. A cork had popped after hearing Shiro’s lament, and he didn't care about what was left of his dignity. “I literally despise myself. Every time I see my reflection, I see a monster, an alien from a race that does nothing but steal, kill and destroy. I don't even know what I am anymore, but I… I can't  _ stand _ myself, Lance.”

“Ok, so you hate the way you look.” Lance said, shrugging far too casually. “Fair enough, I get that. I'd probably feel the same way, so I'm not gonna bullshit you and tell you not to. But Keith - it's just your body.” He stepped forward, and suddenly he was in Keith’s space, close enough to stroke his cheek, his touch unexpectedly soft. “It's just your skin, your hair, the way you look. It's not you, as a person. Nothing about you has changed, except your looks, and nothing about that makes you any less fit to be a paladin, or to be here, with us.  _ With me. _ And besides,” he reached up, flicking gently at Keith’s pronounced, pointed ear, before tugging the tip of it playfully between his fingers, “Purple’s a good color on you.”

Keith wanted to argue, wanted to insist that Lance had no idea what he was talking about. But his gentle touches were so comforting and warm, so much of what Keith needed, right that moment. He sighed, looking down and away, even as he let his head fall forward onto Lance’s chest. “I wish it were that simple.” He felt his ears fall, a strange sensation, and Lance huffed a quiet laugh, swirling his fingers gently over one and then the other.

“Maybe it can be, if we make it that way.” He tipped Keith’s chin upward, pressing their lips together, careful but deliberate, and Keith's heart leapt to his throat. 

He and Lance had only ever kissed like this in the privacy of one bedroom or another, lips softly parting to let tongues slide past, but he'd known enough of it to know that Lance’s kiss was incredible. It was as hungry as it was slow and sweet, such a welcome distraction from all that his life had become that Keith dove headlong into it, letting Lance take the lead and take him in his arms. Sighing against soft, slick lips, he brought his hands to Lance’s shoulders, gently squeezing. 

And then everything slammed to a halt, as Lance let out a pained hiss and recoiled from him. 

On the seams that ran along the sleeves of Lance’s shirt, spots of dark red appeared and began to spread. The fabric of his clothing was pierced at the center of each swelling stain. Instinctively, Lance reached for them, his eyes wide when he pulled his fingers away to find them moistened with his own blood. 

He looked up from them, back at Keith, startled and afraid. 

“What - w-why did..” He stammered, staring. Keith shook his head, barely able to form a sentence through the haze of panic that was rising in him. 

“It was - I didn't mean to, I--” 

Lance’s expression softened some then, but the spots on his shirt had combined to create larger ones, both of his shoulders capped in crimson. Horrified, Keith felt tears welling in his eyes again, his voice jammed in his throat. Lance reached for him, took a step in his direction, but Keith threw himself backward, stumbling as he did. 

Lunging after him, Lance tried to reassure him, wincing at the pain he was undoubtedly in, even as he did. “Keith no, it's okay, it's--”

“It's not!” Keith shrieked, all but crawling backward, into his bedroom. “Leave me alone, where I belong!”

Lance didn't pursue him into his bedroom. Maybe it was the fact that he was in pain, or perhaps the raw and wild edge in Keith’s voice was evident in his expression too, because Lance only watched him, wordless, as he slammed his door, locking it behind him. 

There was nothing more to that Keith could do or say. Everything around him spun as light and sound pulsated together, in a storm that overwhelmed his senses.  _ He was making Shiro miserable. He had hurt Lance. _ Those thoughts rang louder and louder in his ears until everything else was drowned out. 

It was several minutes before Keith even realized he had begun crying again, hard enough to cause an ache in his chest as he gasped for breath between ragged sobs. 

Alone on the floor of his bedroom, he curled into a ball, knees hugged to his chest, and let himself cry.

\--

It may have been hours before Keith finally moved again, pulling himself off of the floor and onto the edge of his unmade bed. Keeping track of the time didn't seem important. Nothing did.

However long it might have been, Keith was glad for the time away from the others. He knew they wanted to help, but he could only stand so much reassurance before the same words that calmed him - repeated endlessly by everyone around him - began to irritate him. 

And truly, for all of their encouragement, there was nothing that stuck with Keith like the constant noise of his own fear. 

His doubts spoke louder than anyone around him could. There was so much he didn't know, so many answers that no one could give him, and his mind raced with ever more questions. What if Red no longer recognized him? What if it saw him as the enemy, the way he was struggling not to see himself? What if everyone's initial fears were more valid than they realized, and he truly was only one more crisis from snapping on them? 

What if he was right - what if he was more of a burden to team Voltron now than an asset? 

He stared across the room at a blank wall, dragging a clawed finger along the post of his bed. Everything he cared about -  _ his entire world _ \- lay within the walls of the castle, and he couldn't be sure that he wasn't risking all of it, simply by existing. He worried for the future of Voltron, his teammates and the Alteans, but more than anything, he harbored secret and selfish concerns. 

How long would it be before Lance could no longer tolerate him, as he had become? And Shiro, always patient and considerate - how long would he be able to keep it up, looking at a face so similar to that of the people that had tortured him? Keith knew he should be concerned with the team as a whole, with his status as a defender of the universe, but all he could think about was losing the people he cared so much about. 

It didn't help that he wasn't even sure exactly how he felt about either of them. 

Lance was his significant other, in some sense of the words. They'd never actually said it aloud; neither of them had asked the other. Rather, it was a relationship that seemed to have been born of circumstance, and nurtured by tension that neither of them bothered to deny. It was a stolen kiss in the middle of a day of training, quick and careless touches in dark rooms and embarrassing dreams come to messy fruition between two people who usually pretended nothing was happening, in front of everyone else. It started off from a starved, carnal place in both of their bodies, but had ended up soft in their hands, and Keith was as in love with the feeling of Lance holding him close as he was with Lance himself. 

But Keith had hurt Lance already, just trying to hold him in return, and he dreaded facing him again. How could what they had grow any closer, any deeper when Lance wasn't even safe with him? 

And then there was Shiro. 

Shiro, who had already seen and been through so much, who had already known more pain and suffering and loss than any person should have to in a thousand lifetimes. Shiro, who always made time for Keith, who wanted to save him, to protect him, to help him through everything. Shiro, who didn't deserve to have to deal with Keith's ugly, purple problems for even a second, and was more than willing to take them onto his shoulders and help Keith bear their weight. 

Keith didn't feel worthy of Shiro’s kindness and care. Yet, selfishly, he wanted more of them, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He didn't have the strength of heart to confess that, perhaps most greedily of everything he felt, he wanted more of Shiro, wanted to be closer to him. 

In all of his life, Keith had never been accused of being self indulgent. When he'd been booted from the garrison, he'd made do with a tiny shack in the desert, devoid of luxuries that most of his peers considered necessities. Keith hardly had friends, let alone multiple lovers that he strung along for the sake of his own carefree enjoyment. 

But Shiro brought out something selfish in him. 

It was strange really, given how selfless Shiro was, himself. He would never knowingly come between Keith and someone else, even if he did return Keith’s growing affections. And if Keith was honest with himself, he didn't  _ want _ Shiro to come between he and Lance. 

He wanted them both. 

It was greedy.  _ Disgusting, _ he thought. But in moments of panic and self doubt, all he could think about since that first night that he'd cried in both of their arms was having all of those arms around him, at every given opportunity. 

Of course, that wasn't something he could just ask for. 

Keith had never been spectacular at voicing his more tender emotions, and finding a way to delicately tell his sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend that he loved him and was also in love with their mutual friend and team leader was… not something he was at all prepared to do. Lance deserved his full attention. Shiro deserved someone whose affections didn't already lay elsewhere. Both of them deserved to know the truth, but that much, Keith just wasn't ready for. 

Besides, the team as a whole were missing two of their lions, and without Voltron, there was no hope of making progress in the war against the Galra. 

Against  _ his people,  _ Keith’s mind offered, bitterly. 

There was no time to dwell on thoughts of love. More important matters were at hand, and he had to find the courage to face them. 

Somehow. 

\--

As the team gathered in the dining hall for the final meal of the day, Keith spotted Lance. The hesitation that Lance regarded him with made his stomach lurch; it looked too much like fear. Keith made his way toward him, hoping Lance would be willing to hear him. 

When Keith was near enough to him to notice, Lance nodded his head to one side, stepping away from everyone else, Keith following close behind.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured as soon as they found a place to stand. He looked down at his own hands, fidgeting with his shirt sleeves. “About earlier, I mean. I shouldn't have just bolted, and I'm…” Keith reached for the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than to claw at the uncomfortable heat that was rising there. He forced himself to raise his eyes to meet Lance’s. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, I promise.” Lance tugged at the color of his shirt, pulling it to one side to reveal large bandages fixed to the skin of his shoulders. “No big deal, see? Just some cat scratches, is all.” He smiled, a little too widely. Keith worried his lip between his teeth, guilt weighing hard on him.

“I should have stayed to make sure you were okay. I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it, alright? You've got enough to think about right now. After what happened on the ship the other day, these are almost pleasant.” 

Keith nodded, trying to make himself smile in response. For the briefest moment, he wondered if he might get another chance at the moment he'd ruined between he and Lance; he wondered if, after that, Lance would ever kiss him that way, again. 

It wasn't the time or place to consider something like that, though. The others were taking seats, and as Coran dished out dinner, more serious topics took precedence as they settled in to eat and discuss the days ahead. 

Keith couldn't eat. His stomach turned at the sight and scent of food, and his jaw ached. His teeth felt too large for his mouth, sharper than they had been only days before. He bit down, gritted them, and tried to ignore his discomfort.

“I think Allura has a solid plan in place for us to get the red and blue lions back,” Shiro told the rest of them. Keith noticed that he was making no move to eat either, but then again, it wasn't uncommon for the paladins to forgo meals when they consisted of the same strange goo as always. Taking a seat beside Shiro, Allura nodded. 

“We need to keep potential danger at a minimum, so Keith and Lance, we’ll need you to ride with Pidge in the green lion while Shiro and Hunk distract the Galra’s defenses with the two larger lions. Do not leave the green lion until you have a clearing to do so, and if anything goes wrong, stay inside the lion and get back to the castle.” She leaned forward, looking between Lance and Keith in particular. “This is not a battle, this is a rescue mission, and the last thing we need is unnecessary risk.”

“I'm shocked and offended at your insinuation, Princess,” Lance grinned, gesturing less than he otherwise might have. With every shrug of his shoulders he winced, but still, he smiled. “Surely you don't think that any of your highly professional paladins would put your carefully laid plans at risk.”

“I disagree with a lot of the words you just used,” Allura sighed. “But you understand the point I’m making. We don't have time to come up with a more thorough plan without getting dangerously close to the Galra ship itself, and without the other two lions, we are flying into this half blind. Cooperation is imperative.”

“You guys should let me do more than just tag along,” Keith chimed in. The relaxed smiles that Lance and some of the others had worn only seconds before fell as they turned to look at him. “This is my fault. I need to recover my lion. I don't wanna ride in the back seat for the entire mission when I could just take a pod and let you guys stay here and stay safe.”

“Yeah, well, your lion isn't the only one missing.” The reminder was not one that Keith needed; not only had he failed his own lion, but they’d had to leave Lance’s behind as well. Lance seemed to sense that his words had hit Keith wrong; he backtracked, clarifying. “What I mean is, where you go, I go. And not just because they have Blue.”

There was a sudden silence, and Keith was all at once aware that everyone was looking at him again. His newly sharpened senses wouldn't allow him not to notice. But it was the lingering gaze that Lance fixed him with, silently daring him not to look away, that held Keith’s full attention. It was rare for them to do anything other than bicker in front of the others, but for a long moment, Lance’s eyes burned him like the earthly sun, hot and bright for everyone to see. 

Keith felt his ears go red, or perhaps just a deeper shade of violet. 

“Lance is right,” Shiro said finally, interrupting Keith’s thoughts about what color his embarrassed blush might be. “We’re not trying to keep you from doing your part, Keith. But this time, we just need to get in, get the lions and get out. This isn't time for another fight.”

“The Galra won't care!” Keith argued. “Whether we go looking for a fight or not, they’re going to be waiting to give us one. I don't want all of you putting yourselves in the line of fire because of me.”

“That's what a team is for,” Pidge countered. “Back up. Support. We have your back, and you have ours. You don't get to lecture everyone else on why they can't leave the team behind and then do it, yourself.”

“We are always in the line of fire, and that's not any one person’s fault.” Shiro added. “We’ve all been in a position to need help, and this isn't any different. Whatever we do, we go into this mission as a team, and we come out of it as a team. Just like always.”

Keith nodded, quietly repeating him. “Right, yeah. Just like always.” 

After that, he didn't argue any further.

The sense of loyalty that ran strong through the veins of team voltron was something Keith still struggled to understand. Of course, he himself would lay his life down to defend any of the other paladins, without hesitation. But the fact that they would do so equally for him always caught him off guard. More than being unaccustomed to being part of a team, Keith was unaccustomed to being cared for. 

He was still getting used to having a family. 

Ultimately, he couldn't reconcile knowing that he was the reason they were being led into the heart of danger, once again. No matter how loudly, how passionately they argued, that much they could not change his mind about. Though he still didn't understand what had happened to him, the fact that it had was part of the reason that two of the lions were in the Galra’s possession. 

Even though his mind knew better, his heart blamed him with every beat.

So as Allura and Pidge reviewed the tactical details of their recovery mission, he nodded along, his mind elsewhere entirely. The others couldn't put themselves in danger, if he took that danger away from them, first. The voice of the Galran commander resounded in his memory, louder and louder, ringing in his ears. 

_ “This one could be of use to us.” _

Glancing down at his hands, only then realizing that they were shaking, Keith clenched his fingers, just to feel his claws press hard against his palm. He wondered what violet skin would look like, bloodied and bruised. With no one to hear his unspoken thoughts, no one could convince him not to dwell on them. 

It was oddly peaceful, in the midst of the noisy room, people laying plans as he lingered in his thoughts.

As they retired to their rooms for the night, Keith wondered what the others would say, if they knew what plans he'd made for himself. For the time though, he thought it best not to share his plans. Instead, he searched for sleep, and finally found it, with Shiro propped beside his bed, and Lance curled up at his feet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
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> Fine me on [tumblr](quartetship.tumblr.com)!


	3. Nothing You Can Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The others would understand, soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that I am a good person and that I love you all very much. sWEATS

\--

Over breakfast the next morning, Keith made nice with his teammates.

No one else knew how hard he was trying to feign pleasantry - or at least he hoped that they couldn't tell. To the logical mind, he had no reason to be anything other than happy and grateful for the love and support he was surrounded with. But in everything he was dealing with, everything that had changed inside of him and out, he found it hard to think logically.

There was a smothering tightness in Keith’s chest as he struggled to eat. Pushing globs of green goop around his plate, he could feel eyes on him, hear the careful breathing of both Shiro and Lance as they watched him. The others were cautious, as well. Keith understood; it would be impossible not to be, with a teammate having made such a drastic transformation just days before. The attention that both Shiro and Lance laid upon him though, was something much different.

It wasn't the same, between the two of them, either. Lance looked at Keith with worry, certainly. But there was also hunger - _want_ \- and a growing lack of care for who could see it. Lance watched Keith with boldness, an unspoken dare to try and talk him out of wanting to be near Keith, Galra or not. He wasn't afraid of teeth or claws or of glowing, golden eyes in the darkness. He would not be dissuaded from following Keith with his own eyes, no matter where that might lead him.

Shiro was more careful. Maybe it was everything he had been through, at the hands of the Galra. There were days, weeks, months that he couldn't recall, and Keith silently thanked whatever higher power might exist for that, horrified at the notion of how gruesome those missing memories might be. Still, Shiro watched Keith intently, quietly urging him to eat, to sleep, to _breathe_ through everything that was happening. He circled Keith like an orbiting moon, close enough to see, but never enough to touch, except when Keith reached for him.

Keith tried to keep those times to a minimum.

It wasn't that he disliked the attention, really. Truthfully, he wanted, needed, _craved_ the presence of the little family he'd assembled for himself, so far from home. In particular, he felt lost without Lance and Shiro, Lance to bolster him, Shiro to guide him. If things weren't as they were, Keith could imagine himself lying with the two of them on either side, content to linger there forever.

But as it was, there was no time for that. There might never _be_ time for it, and Keith was still drowning in conflict over his feelings for the both of them.

No one else seemed so affected. Lance didn't seem challenged by Shiro’s nearness through everything, and Shiro didn't seem intent on changing that. They seemed to work like a team, rather than rivals, but perhaps it was only because neither of them knew just how much Keith wished he could keep both of them close. He'd never said it aloud. Then again, he and Lance had never even spoken their relationship into being, but still, it existed.

He couldn't imagine risking it.

That was one of the many reasons Keith barely spoke, that morning. Mired in guilt, he silently ate, avoiding conversation and the concerned gaze of the other paladins and the princess as much as possible. They were still at least a day and a half outside of the vicinity of the main Galra fleet, at the castle’s top flight speed. There was still a lot to do, to prepare for the rescue mission Allura was planning, and everyone's distraction made it easier for Keith to remain quiet without the others prodding. Still, Shiro remained focused on him, determined to keep eyes on him, not to let him be alone.

So Keith stayed within sight - just not his or Lance’s.

\--

In the relatively short time that Keith had known Pidge, the two of them had become something akin to siblings. Taking Shiro’s chastising in turns and laughing to themselves about the goings on between Allura, Coran and the rest of the team they were trying so hard to manage, having Pidge at his side was the first time Keith had ever enjoyed the quiet, understated camaraderie of sharing a family with another person. So it wasn't an unnatural way for him to spend his time, lingering alongside Pidge as they worked together on preparations for the planned rescue mission.

“So you've modified Hunk’s lion, too?” Keith liked hearing about Pidge’s work on the machinery and technical aspects of their equipment; Pidge always glowed when discussing their improvements and the streamlining they'd done to the lions’ already impressive designs. But Keith had much different motivations as he listened that day, gently prodding Pidge for anything they might be willing to share with him.

“I've modified all of the lions, at least a little.” Pidge chirped, drafting a checklist for themselves for the work that needed done that afternoon. “For most of them it's just been communication things, but upgrading that was a huge improvement in syncing their systems with the helmet comm links and the travel pods.”

“Travel pods?” Keith prompted. Pidge nodded, not looking up from the sheet of paper they were scribbling on.

“Mhm. All of the pods have the same communication system as the lions, the helmets, and the castle itself, now. Everything is stored in one place, like a cloud, so information can be recovered fairly easily, even if one of the receivers is destroyed.” Pidge tossed the clipboard in their hands aside, seemingly satisfied, waving Keith after them as they made their way down the long hall of the hangar to where the travel pods were housed. “C’mon, I'll show you!”

Across the walls that docked the small pods, rows of crystals twinkled. Affixed to the walls, they were the same crystals that powered multiple parts of the castle ship itself. Keith recognized them. Pidge beamed proudly, taking one off of a small stirrup where it hung.

“These fit right in here,” Pidge pointed out, sliding the crystal into place. There were four slots total on the pod; Pidge motioned to each, miming filling the rest with crystals. “Hunk and I retooled the engines so they run exclusively on that crystal energy, which makes them really fuel efficient. That way, you only really need traditional fuel for like… major bursts of thrust, and stuff. That keeps stops to a minimum, which goes hand in hand with the cabin modifications Hunk did to make longer travel easier on the pilot. He's good at those kinds of augmentations.”

Keith nodded, moving to the wall where the crystals were secured. He took one from its hook, handling it for a moment before putting it back. It slid silently from its stirrup and back into it, again. He inhaled, contemplative.

“You and Hunk - you guys do a lot of work together.”

Pidge nodded, smiling. “He’s a smart guy. I'm lucky to have him around to work with.”

“Are you guys, uh…” Keith made a wavering motion with his hands, unsure as to how to even _imply_ what he was trying to ask. Pidge stared at him for a moment, and then their eyes went wide.

“Oh, no,” they started, but shock and borderline horror quickly became amusement, and then bright and bubbling laughter. “No, no no no, no way, huh-uh. Hunk is my friend! He's a great guy, but - I don't really think of any of you guys as anything but my friends. My family, honestly.” Pulling their glasses off for a moment, Pidge swiped at the corner of their eyes, drying them with their sleeve, still grinning. “You guys are like my brothers. Shiro, especially.”

Keith’s chest lightened at the mention of Shiro, but it only lasted a moment before the darkness that hung heavy over him dampened it again. He swallowed, trying not to let his feelings show on his face, resound in his voice as he joked with Pidge. “Guess that makes Allura and Coran our weird aunt and uncle.”

“Basically!” Pidge snorted, and their giggle brought a tiny spark of light back to Keith’s heart. “This is the weirdest family I could have ever imagined, honestly. But you know, my dad always told me that when you go on missions with people, you learn to trust them. You can't work as a team without becoming a family.” Pidge turned back to look at Keith, a lopsided grin on their face. “And he was right. I couldn't see you guys as anything other than my family even if I wanted to.”

“Weird, little space family,” Keith smiled. He hoped Pidge could not see how hollow it was, how hollow he felt as he sat, watching them work. They didn't seem to. Instead, they warded off the threat of silence with happy chatter, content to keep conversation alive. Keith nodded along, only chiming in when prompted. After a particularly long stretch of silence though, as he watched Pidge put the finishing touches on the green lion and murmur to it almost affectionately, he felt moved to say something.

The words tumbled out, almost of their own volition.

“You're a really good person, Pidge.”

At that, Pidge turned and looked at him, eyebrow raised in confusion, waiting for an explanation. Keith didn't have a rational one to offer, so he shrugged, drawing in on himself a bit as he struggled to put into words what he was thinking.

“You're… You care about people. You love people. I like that about you.” Keith looked down at his hands, frowning at their appearance. “You aren't afraid of me. You weren't, even when everything first happened. You knew I was still me, and you even stood up to Shiro and the others. You don't care that I look like a monster, or that I'm apparently not even human. You care about me, and you don't expect anything in return for it. You…” He trailed off, giving his throat a moment to relax, to let himself breathe through the tightness until it unwound a bit. “You're a good person, Pidge. I'm glad you're here.”

Pidge dragged their sleeved hand across their face again. Lip quivering, they dropped the tools in their free hand and crossed the room, arms flung outward to wrap around Keith’s neck. Keith let the hug happen, if only because he needed Pidge to know he was serious. He needed Pidge to remember this conversation.

“I'm glad you're here too, Keith.” Pidge said, sniffling against his jacket collar. They clung tightly, squeezing Keith for a moment. “I don't know how I'd do this crazy paladin thing without any one of you guys, and I know everyone else probably feels the same way. Thank you for being here. Thank you for staying.”

When Pidge pulled away, it was to wipe more tears, laughing through a sob that was trying earnestly to escape them. Keith smiled in return, reaching out to squeeze their arms, but their gratitude made his stomach feel heavy and sour. He knew that he was loved, accepted, appreciated amongst his teammates.

It only made his plans for the coming days that much harder on his heart.

Settling back into silence, Keith watched Pidge work for most of the remainder of the day, happy at least to be out from beneath the eyes of everyone else.

\--

Situating himself in his room that evening, Keith pushed his bag under his bed. He wanted it within reach, but not in sight. It was stuffed with everything he thought he might need for the coming day, lights to see by, his knife and a few spare parts and tools. Nothing that would typically any place being tucked beneath his bed, so he made sure it wasn't easily spotted, there. He didn't want any questions. Though Keith couldn't remember which of the other boys would be keeping him company that evening, he knew they had told him earlier that day that one of them would, and after a full day of avoiding them, he couldn't rightly say no. At least not without explaining himself.

The first knock was neither Shiro nor Lance, but Coran, with a stack of linens and a mug of steaming liquid. He handed the cup to Keith with a cheerful smile, and laid the blankets on the end of his bed. They smelled clean and were still a little warm from being dried. Keith pulled one of them up and over himself, sighing at the tiny indulgence.

“Nice and clean,” Coran chirped, patting the remaining linens. “Figured you could use a change in here, and that a mug of something to warm your insides might do nicely as well.” He beamed as Keith took a sip. The drink was indeed warm, spicy and almost bitter, but as soon as it made its way down Keith’s throat, the tightness in his chest loosened a little. He took another drink and nodded.

“Thanks, Coran.”

“Anytime! Alteans know how to feed exactly what ails you, I always say. You know I think it might do the lot of you a bit of good to get more to eat and drink, especially you, with everything you're--”

He surely would have continued talking, but a soft knock at the door stopped him mid-sentence, and when Shiro poked his head inside, Coran glance between he and Keith, smiled, and took that as his cue to leave.

“Goodnight, paladins!” He said brightly, and then he was gone, the door closing behind him. Shiro turned to Keith, pleasant surprise written on his features. He raised an eyebrow.

“Did I interrupt anything?”

Keith blinked back at him. “Uh, no - why?”

“You two seemed to be talking,” said Shiro, “and I didn't want him to think he had to clam up and leave on my account.”

“Eh, he was only talking about Altean food or whatever,” Keith shrugged, and when Shiro chuckled quietly in response, he couldn't help smiling a little, too. “So are you my bunk buddy tonight, then?”

Shiro nodded. “Assuming that’s alright with you.”

Keith quickly mirrored him, nodding his agreement on reflex, but then a thought occurred to him that froze him in place. “I mean, yeah. I'm guessing… Lance is okay with that?”

“He seemed to be,” Shiro responded. The look on his face at Keith’s hesitation was one of mild confusion. Keith felt guilt bubbling up in his throat again, for myriad reasons. Shiro’s voice was appropriately reassuring. “When I spoke to him earlier he actually suggested it, so he could get a little extra sleep tonight. He was really dragging, this morning.”

“You guys don't have to babysit me, you know.” He hadn't meant it to sound so sour, but once the words had left him Keith could do little to sweeten them. “I don't want to be such a burden to everyone.”

“Spending time with you is never a burden,” Shiro assured him, taking a seat at the end of Keith’s bed. He moved the stack of linens onto his lap, holding them like he needed something to do with his hands. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. I just don't want to be here if you'd rather me not.”

A loaded silence fell between them. Keith had already spoken his reservations, and Shiro had gently but pointedly shot every single one of them down. Left with no reason to ask him to go, Keith was left with no option other than allowing himself to have what he really did want.

He shook his head, inching down the bed, closer to where Shiro sat.

“Stay.” He said quietly. Shiro nodded.

\--

Despite the fact that the bed Keith slept in inside the palace was fairly large, he always felt the need to be near whoever might be sharing it with him. Usually that was Lance, on nights when they both needed something that couldn't be satisfied with words. But on this evening it was Shiro, leaning back so that his crossed arms cradled his head at the foot of Keith’s bed, his bare feet stretched in Keith's direction.

It was a time for sleep, and yet they spent a great deal of it simply talking.

“I understand, you know.” Shiro watched Keith in the moments of silence between chatter, saw the sadness and the conflict in his eyes. He laid a hand on Keith’s ankle, squeezing gently. “I haven't been through what you're going through, and I know it has to be terrifying. I'm really sorry for that. But I just want you to know that I do understand what it's like to lose yourself, to have no say in what happens to your body. It's a horrible feeling and I hate that we have it in common, but if you ever need to talk about it--”

“I haven't been through anything close to what you have,” Keith blurted out. “I mean - I appreciate the offer. I know you care, Shiro. I just… I wouldn't feel right talking to you about what's happening to me, knowing everything you've gone through.”

“I don't even know everything I've gone through,” Shiro replied, honestly. “I think maybe that's a blessing. But I remember enough to know that I can relate, and I want you to know that you're not alone. Feeling that way was always the worst part, for me.”

Keith watched Shiro then, as his face fell and his features hardened. It wasn't often that they spoke of his time in captivity, unless they were thinking through battle strategy or plans of attack. This was something very different though; the memories dancing in Shiro’s eyes were personal, and clearly horrifying.

“If I had known…” Keith began, drawing closer to him, but he wasn't even sure of what else to say. Shiro seemed to understand, regardless.

“I know. And it's not something I want you to dwell on, alright? Everything that happened is over now. I only brought it up because I know what it's like to be alone in a scary situation, and I don't want that for you.”

“You had Matt though, right?” Keith said, again letting words tumble from his lips without thinking them through. “And Dr. Holt?” For the first time in their many conversations, Shiro actually recoiled from Keith, just slightly.

“I… I was captured with them. But when I saw what they were going to do to us - what they did to Matt and I - I had to get them out of their hands.”

“Pidge told us about the fighting,” Keith said quickly, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. “You’re a hero. Matt would have died without you--”

“Matt did his share of suffering, though. Before I could do anything to help him.” Shiro swallowed hard, his voice beginning to waver. “I only know because it happened to all of us. The guards were insatiable - _disgusting._ I only hope it stopped once he was sent to the work camp.”

Shiro looked distant, his eyes focused on some far off place that Keith couldn't see, a horizon beyond the walls of the room. He reached out to take hold of Shiro’s arm, guiding him back into the moment. Careful of his claws, he squeezed.

“I can’t begin to know what any of that was like, but… The offer goes both ways, you know. I understand, at least a little, and for what I lack there, I'm more than willing to make up by listening.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, and his tone was genuine, though his eyes still held the smoke of a faraway flame. “But I don't want this to be about me. I'm here to keep you company. And the less I think about the Galra right now, the better.”

It was meant to be light hearted, dismissive. But Keith winced, retracting his hand from where it rested on Shiro’s arm. Shiro saw the hurt he'd caused almost as soon as the words had left him.

“Not - no, Keith, that's not what I mean. You know I don't associate you with them, right?”

Keith wanted to nod, wanted to agree, wanted to know that Shiro didn't lump him into a box with that same race of galactic trash that had kidnapped, tortured and enslaved him and his cohort. But the words he'd overheard between Shiro and Pidge echoed in his mind, louder and louder with every glance at Shiro’s earnest, searching expression, and Keith could not lie to him. He bit down hard, until he could taste the blood of his lips splitting beneath razor sharp teeth and inhaled, silent.

“Keith, listen to me. I… I understand why you might think otherwise, but I don't feel any differently about you now than I ever have. If anything, I want to work harder to protect you and take care of you, but I know you need time to figure everything out on your own and I'm trying to be respectful of that. But I never want you to think that just because you might be of a certain race, that I associate you with the evils of the worst of that race.” Shiro moved onto his knees, pulling them to his chest before leaning his weight forward and crawling up the bed toward Keith. Just before he made it to his side though, he hesitated, waiting to be invited any closer. “Keith, Sendak and his men - the soldiers who serve Zarkon - they took so much from me. Even once I stole back my freedom, I've never really been free of them and I don't think I ever will be. But I won't let what they did take you from me, too. You're not one of them, you're one of us. You're ours, for as long as you want to be, and I don't want you ever thinking otherwise.”

For a moment he just hovered there, half on his knees, half seated, waiting for Keith to respond. Keith was near to paralyzed, desperate to take him at his word, but scarcely able to hear anything other than the words he had never been meant to. Still, he nodded. Even if he didn't believe Shiro, and even if he knew it would only hurt him that much worse in the long run, he wanted him close.

He ghosted shaking, claw tipped fingers across the bed beside him, wordlessly inviting Shiro to take a seat properly. Looking the smallest bit relieved, Shiro did just that. Keith sat motionless for a moment, thoughts locking him in place like mortar. But the pull toward another body was too strong, and without warning he was suddenly reaching out, snaking an arm around broad shoulders and leaning into Shiro’s side.

Slipping an arm over him in return, Shiro breathed a long, heavy sigh. Keith closed his eyes and listened to the defiant beat of Shiro’s heart, a rhythm that spat in the face of its tormentors. He only hoped he could summon the courage to be half as brave, in the coming days.

“I wish I could kill them for what they did to you,” he said candidly. Without looking Shiro in the eye, he curled his fingers in to guard his claws, running his knuckles along Shiro’s arm and down his side as he spoke. He was being far too tactile, he knew - but he struggled to make himself care enough to stop. “I wanna destroy them, the way they've destroyed so many planets and lives and people all over the universe. The way they tried to destroy you. If looking like this gives me any kind of advantage in doing that, then I'll call it worth it, at the end of the day. But not until.”

Pulling him in tighter to his side, Shiro was quiet for a moment like he was contemplating an argument. But then he was nodding, almost nuzzling into Keith’s hair as he did, concession on his lips as they came to rest close to Keith’s ear. “Fair enough.”

\--

It took what felt like hours, but finally, Shiro’s breathing steadied and he drifted off to sleep beside Keith. As soon as Keith was sure that he was resting soundly, he began to inch his way out of bed.

Once he was free, he reached below the bed and wiggled his bag out, as quietly as he could manage. With Shiro asleep, his features were lax, smooth and soft without the presence of worry that so often plagued them. Keith took a last, lingering look, careful not to do anything to disturb that peaceful slumber. Shiro deserved whatever sweet dreams that sleep might bring him, and Keith had other places to be. As silently as one of the princess’s mice, he slipped from the room, and left Shiro behind, blissfully unaware.

Creeping quietly down the halls, Keith’s chest threatened to boil over with the rage he was forced to keep contained in it at the thoughts of what he had discussed with Shiro. There was so much that he didn't know, so much he might never hear about, because Shiro himself couldn't recall it, but everything he knew about the Galra empire was heinous. Shiro never wanted him to dwell on his thoughts of revenge, only on the greater mission at hand, but it was impossible not to think of the sick pleasure he would surely derive from watching those evil creatures suffer the way they had made so many others do.

Keith had a mission of his own. He tightened his hold on his bag, hefting it up further onto his shoulder as he made his way down the halls. Dressed as hastily as silence would allow, he hoped no one would find it odd that he was halfway between pajamas and paladin armor. He couldn't imagine taking on the task of making late night small talk about his clothes when his mind was elsewhere, entirely.

Most of his walk went to plan, and he made it through three hallways without meeting another living soul. But in the stretch that passed the dozen or so bathrooms in the main hall, Keith heard footsteps, and froze, stone still. Turning on his heel, he all but ran headlong into the only thing keeping him from pulling off his moonlit walk, uninterrupted.

That thing smiled at him, slow and sleepy, before draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, you,” Lance murmured, his voice low and thick with sleep. “Whatcha up walkin’ around for?”

Keith swallowed, panic crackling through his veins as he reached for some excuse. In the end he had none. “Just walking. What about you?”

Lance gestured behind him. “Bathroom. Figured I'd come check on you too, but you made the trip for me.” He grinned, pulling Keith to him, mumbling into the crook of his neck. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” Keith lied. He hoped Lance couldn't feel the tension in his body as he reached forward to hug him back, tucking his bag against him with the other arm. “Just, uh. Gonna head to the bathroom too.”

“M’kay.” Lance nodded. His eyes were heavy, barely open as he pulled back to press a lazy kiss to Keith’s forehead, toying with one silky, violet ear. “Shiro been keepin’ you warm tonight?”

Straightening at the mention, Keith waited, letting a beat pass before slowly nodding, wondering if Lance was baiting him. “He's been in my room, yeah. We talked a lot, and stuff. He… He said you knew he was coming.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lance yawned. “Yeah, we talked about it earlier today, remember?” There was no trace of jealousy, no hint that Lance might be harboring any ill feelings toward Shiro or Keith. Of course, Keith had done nothing to warrant them, really. But he was struck speechless by how completely comfortable Lance seemed to be, when sharing _anything_ had never really been something he was famous for.

Perhaps Keith didn't know him as well as he had assumed that he did. The notion sat heavy and bitter on his tongue as he pulled farther away, quieting him as he moved toward the bathrooms.

“Well I'm gonna go ahead and go, if you’re alright.” Lance said, still standing in the middle of the hallway, almost swaying in place. “Make sure you get some more rest tonight, alright?” He wagged a finger in what was probably supposed to be Keith’s direction, but he was so comically off target that Keith almost grinned in response. Almost.

“You too,” Keith replied, hoping Lance would return to his own room and let him go through with what he was planning. Lance nodded, stretching again.

“You gonna c’mere and let me tell you goodnight?”

Hesitating for a moment, Keith wandered back toward him, hoping he wouldn't notice the bag hanging from his shoulder. Thankfully Lance’s eyes were already closed by the time Keith made it to him, and when he slung his arm around Keith’s shoulders again, he did so blindly, leaning forward until their faces bumped together. He nosed against Keith’s jawline, feeling his way along to press his lips to Keith’s, slow and soft. Keith sighed into the kiss, wishing it would last longer, wishing he could savor every slide of Lance’s sweet, sleepy mouth against his. But all too quickly, Lance was pulling away again, dropping one last kiss on Keith’s temple before waving and heading back for his own bedroom, calling over his shoulder.

“G’night!”

“Goodnight,” Keith mumbled, standing in the open bathroom doorway. Then, more quietly to himself, “Goodbye.”

He watched and waited until Lance had returned to his room, and then turned back in the other direction, heading down the hallway and toward the outer halls of the castle. The doors that led to the hangars were dark, but the light that Keith had brought along illuminated his steps. He keyed in the access code he'd observed Pidge using previously, slipped through and closed the doors behind him again, and made straight for the pods that he had watched Pidge augment hours earlier. Powering one up was as simple as plugging the crystals into place, and Keith swiped an extra set, just to be sure.

The cold darkness of space greeted him as he left the castle, no sun to rise with the coming of morning.

\--

Silence had a tendency to slow the passage of time.

As Keith made his way out of sight of the castle, he felt the telltale drag of a quiet journey, this time without the red lion’s muted sentience to keep him company. When flying missions with the rest of the team, he always had Lance chattering in his communicator, Shiro giving him direction, Hunk and Pidge and even Allura chiming in to bring the effort together and win the day. But this was a battle Keith was determined to fight alone, and the silence of the travel pod seemed only fitting.

It took what must have been several hours before the peace was finally broken, as Keith had expected that it would be. The communication link screen lit up, and he felt a pang of guilt as he rejected the incoming transmission.

He knew they would call him. He couldn't have expected them not to. It wouldn't be the last, and the thought only made the knot in his stomach ache more profoundly.

In the stolen pod, he accelerated forward, doing his best not to let himself look back.

It was foreign, by then, flying a craft with which he had no connection. The red lion was more than a ship; they had a relationship, a real rapport. Piloting the pod felt cold, by contrast. In the endless expanse of space, he felt like he was flying with blinders on, lacking several senses as he sped away from where he'd launched.

The calls kept coming. The transmissions were sporadic at first, and Keith imagined Pidge or the princess trying to make contact, likely confused and furious that he'd stolen the pod. His plans were his own and he hadn't shared them; gut twisting, he wondered if the others were comparing notes, by then. He wondered if Lance and Shiro were yet aware.

As he flew, the transmissions became more frequent, until they were almost constant. The message docket was nearly full, but Keith stubbornly refused to relieve its load. Listening to the messages would only soften his resolve, and he couldn't afford that. As the communicator chimed again and again, he ground his teeth, resisting the urge to see the faces of his teammates.

The thick fur that ran down his neck and along his spine stood on end as he grew agitated, making him all the more uncomfortable. His hypersensitive ears ached from the sounds his dash made, twitching as if just to remind him of how different he was. When the incessant ringing of the comm link threatened to deafen him entirely, Keith lost himself to momentary anger, and tore a clawed hand across the screen, tearing it loose from the dash completely. With a choked sob, he threw it to the floor of the cockpit, tears welling hot in his eyes as it clattered against his boot.

He couldn’t fix it, mid-flight. The others couldn't contact him, anymore.

Darkness surrounding him, Keith could not have been more alone.

It was a feeling he was accustomed to, but it didn't mean he particularly enjoyed it. The shock of silence after the clamoring of the comm link reminded him of the soul-shattering stillness of the tiny shack he'd holed up in, in the middle of the desert after losing his place in the garrison. In turn, he recalled the way he'd felt when that silence was lifted from his life, turned upside down along with everything else he'd ever known, the night Shiro returned to earth - the night they'd started on their journey to become paladins.

Swallowing his grief at the loss of the family of friends he was closing the door on, Keith let his tears fall. With sadness running down his face, he searched the distant skies, and located the trail of the Galra empire’s primary fleet. Target locked, he set his course for collision with the armada of ships, and sat back, chest too numb to hurt as he quietly cried.

\--

The whirring of the crystal powered engines and the rhythmic, muted beeping of the pod’s controls lulled Keith into a drowsy daze after a little while. He still had only a very loose handle of the way time was measured by Alteans, but he knew that roughly converted, it would still be hours before he was even within reach of the Galra fleet. He lay back, eyes shuttered closed, trying to do anything but think.

Keith had always been able to sleep just about anywhere. It was something he'd subtly bragged about to Lance more than a time or two, and something he had become well known for amongst the team. It was likely because of the many nights he had spent on his own, growing up and again, in the desert after his expulsion. He liked the way the others made him feel like it was an asset though, rather than something to reflect on with a heavy heart. Lance especially liked the way Keith could fall asleep beside him easily, regardless of where they were or what the day before had brought.

The painful twist in Keith’s stomach returned as he thought about Lance’s arms around him, and wondered if he would ever feel them there, again.

It was his own fault, of course. The team had all but begged him to stay, without even knowing that he was planning not to. But Keith refused to continue living as everyone else’s obligation, to bring the rest of Voltron’s paladins down with him any longer.

So he wiped the tears that had begun to fall again, and listened to the engines whir.

He had almost lost himself to sleep again when that steady, solemn sound came to a sputtering hault. If the sudden silence hadn't stirred him from his stupor, the way the pod dipped from its course would have, beginning a slow spiral, tip over tail. Keith groped at the controls, trying not to destroy anything else with his sharply hooked fingertips. But the propulsion system refused to fire. Checking the power supply the way Pidge had shown him the day before, Keith found the reason, and a flurry of feelings fought for control of his mind.

_‘Remote system deactivation’,_ the screen informed him. The engines had been shut down on an emergency override, and Keith knew exactly by whom. Or at least, he had it narrowed down to about half a dozen other people.

Slamming a curled fist against the dash, he cursed to keep from crying yet again.

From the moment he had watched Lance’s life nearly slip away at the hands of the Galra soldiers, and felt his own life change forever in the wake of his fear and rage, Keith had wrestled with a looming sense of hopelessness that threatened to rob him of his very will to live. Never had it been so strong as it was in that moment though, his communicator broken, his engines deactivated, and his spacecraft bobbing through the blackness like a cork adrift in a river. He was a sitting duck, with no choice but to wait for the castle to locate and retrieve him, and he would be left to explain his actions to the others.

That was the thought that filled him with the most dread.

There was no way he could ever explain to the rest of the team that he'd left with their safety in mind, with keeping them out of harm’s way as his top priority. They wouldn't understand, and he couldn't fault them for it; his heart already ached after only hours apart from them, but there was no undoing what was already done. He curled in on himself in the seat of the pod, watching the stars swirl outside as it turned slowly on its side, waiting to be retrieved.

Beeping alerts began to sound only a few minutes later, and Keith sighed, already seeing the looming darkness of an approaching ship. But the glow coming from the lights that ran along its outer hull were not the clean, cerulean blue of the castle of lions. Rather, these were an ominous shade of violet, one that reminded Keith too much of the color of his own newly changed skin. He pressed himself to the window of the pod to get a better look at the approaching ship.

It was a Galra rover.

For a moment, instinctual panic overtook Keith’s senses. Smashing the control buttons, he frantically tried to override the system shutdown manually, tried to fire the engines and simultaneously search for the castle on his radar. But it was nowhere in range, and the Galra ship was approaching at a fast clip, moving directly toward him. He had been spotted. Capture was inevitable.

Forcing himself to breathe, Keith summoned to mind the fact that he had initially gone looking for this very sort of encounter. He had been tracking the Galra fleet, and without engines to pursue them, being apprehended by the rover was his best chance at getting where he wanted to be. He had wanted this. Why was he afraid then, with the reality of it creeping toward him like the peripheral ship itself? Perhaps that was why he had to remind himself to inhale, to exhale, to swallow and relieve the barren dryness in his mouth.

Shiro’s calming voice came to mind, a soothing mantra chanted in his ringing ears, whispered encouragement as Keith faced down his fate. It accompanied him through the jarring of the pod as a beam of energy pulled him toward the Galra rover, and reverberated in his head as both he and the pod came to land with a shattering slam against the floor of the interior. An air lock loudly opened and Keith barely made it to his feet, struggling to dust himself off from the wreckage of his tiny craft, before he was seized by hands large enough to wrap clawed fingers around his arms.

As he was dragged along, he clung to the echo of every calming word Shiro had ever said to him. Those echoes brought him courage as massive metal doors parted, and wicked laughter greeted his ears. His mind was satisfied, heading in exactly the direction he'd intended, in more control than his captors knew.

His heart though, longed only for the souls he was trying to save.

He thought of them, as he moved forward.

\--

If Keith’s skin had not been changed in the way that it had, the shackles he was fitted with might have hurt. Instead, they were an annoyance, heavy on his hands, arms pulled taut behind his back and held there as he was prodded down a maze of halls. He kept quiet, noting turns and counting doors.

The soldiers that surveyed him were massive, larger than Shiro, by at least two times apiece. Keith did not bow his head in fear of them, though he certainly was afraid of what might lay ahead. Instead he kept his chin up, his ears falling back of their own accord, spine stiffening at the way they snarled at him.

They were _amused._ He would be certain to correct that, if it was the last thing he did.

Once they reached an inner catacomb, Keith halted, giving his handlers resistance for a brief moment. They pushed him along, growling threats, but as they did, Keith swung himself around, taking note of every sight his eyes could drink in as he thrashed. The doorway they’d walked through was framed with dark metal, the only one of its kind, and the direction he was being dragged in was toward another doorway, four places to the left. Numbers, colors, detail after tiny detail. He filed all of it away, all the while wriggling just enough to give the illusion of wildness.

It was with a rough toss that he was finally brought before the ship’s commander, a hulking, scarred creature with a voice that scratched at Keith’s ears. Despite his bound hands and shoddy balance, Keith pushed himself to his feet, determined to stand before the Galra captain unafraid. From his seat, the commander asked for the details of his capture.

“He was found in a small, Altean spacecraft,” one of the soldiers informed him, eying Keith like a prize retrieved from a quest for treasure. “We believe this is a paladin of Voltron.”

At the mention of the word, the captain sat forward, hands clasping as a devilish grin split his face. “Is it, now?” He looked down at Keith, and it was then that Keith realized he had seen the face searching his before; it was the same commander who had ordered him captured on the night of his transformation, the one who had ordered Lance killed. Keith swallowed the urge to tear out of his restraints and after him, then and there.

“A Voltron paladin with Galra features,” the commander sneered. “This must be the same one that got me demoted to this post. Tell me, paladin - is it the red lion or the blue lion that you were seeking?”

“Neither.” Keith said curtly, and was prodded hard from either side by the soldiers handling him. He snarled at them, baring teeth to match the ones they flashed at him. Their captain chuckled darkly, watching the exchange with great enjoyment.

“Your lies do not fool me, paladin. I know which lions are without their pilots. And I know exactly what use you’ll be, in luring the rest of your teammates and their lions back.” The commander motioned to the men on either side of Keith, and they tightened their hold on him, pulling him toward them like they might drag him out of the room again. Planting his feet firmly in place, Keith resisted, eyeing the captain alone.

“I didn't say I wasn't the paladin you think I am,” he said, voice loud and steady. “My name is Keith. I’m the paladin of the red lion. You and I _have_ met before. But if you think the only thing I'm good for is bait, you're making a mistake.”

The guards that surrounded Keith took him to the floor, pulling back fists like they intended to beat his resistance from him, but their leader halted their movements at once. Standing from his chair, he looked down at Keith.

“What else is it that you think you're worth to me, paladin?” There was genuine curiosity in his tone, but it was laced with so much amusement that Keith felt his claws pierce the skin of his palms as he curled his fingers into fists, purely on reflex.

“I have information,” he said plainly, willing himself not to spit the words at the commander’s feet, the way he so wanted to. “Things no one else is going to be able to tell you and your superiors.”

“Things we can surely figure out for ourselves, once your team is under our control.” The captain countered, though he still looked down upon Keith expectantly. Keith sternly shook his head.

“You could _torture_ my teammates and they'd demand death before they gave you a word of what I can offer.” Keith smiled then, the Galra captain clearly taken aback at his display of confidence. “If you don't believe me, ask your superiors how much they've gotten from them so far, after every chance they've had and failed.”

There was a loaded since then, a pause that crackled with the electricity of Keith’s intense stare, the commander’s equally unflinching resolve, and then - a croaking laugh.

“Your valor impresses me, paladin. Perhaps there is more Galra to you than simply your flesh.” When the guards moved to pull Keith back from his command chair, the captain waved them still, taking a seat. “I suppose you’ll have some kind of conditions you want met, in exchange for your information?”

“Only one.” Keith drew himself up as tall as his aching body would allow, head held high. “Unchain me.”

Again, the commander sat quietly, the barest hint of a grin playing across his fearsome face as he considered Keith’s demand. Weapons drawn, there would be no way that he could escape alive, even unbound. There was little reason to believe that Keith had any opportunity to do anything other than comply.

The captain waved his hand, ordering the guards, “Release him.”

With his shackles dropping loudly to the floor, Keith rolled his shoulders forward and stretched, taking his first deep breath since his capture. It wouldn't be the last one he needed to steady his nerves, but he kept on feigning the confidence that had won him his freedom. Thinking only of his intentions, of his actions as a means to an end, Keith let himself be searched for weapons of his own and stripped of all but his most essential clothing, before taking a knee before the commander of the rover ship.

“Take me to your superiors,” he said boldly, “And I will be sure that they know that it was you and your men who brought me to them.”

The captain hummed. “Your fearlessness will be your greatest asset, paladin.” Turning to his men, he doled out orders, sitting back in his chair, satisfied. “See that he is supervised. We will make contact with Emperor Zarkon, directly. I'll see that Voltron is returned to its rightful place in his possession, and me to my rightful place at his right hand.”

With that, Keith was led away, this time without bindings. Dodging the point of a blade or the brunt of a blaster as he was nudged along down halls and through large, dimly lit rooms, he kept quiet count of every door through which he passed, mapping the ship in his head as best he could. He had made it through the first ring of hellfire unscathed, but as he was assigned a small room complete with absolutely no amenities, he wondered what he might lose as he trudged through the remainder of his mission.

With guards at either side of the doorway, he settled in for a night of whatever rest he might be able to get, desperately hoping that the navigation system of his pod had been broken during his capture. The last thing he needed was the rest of team Voltron tracking him to his current location, ruining everything he had worked so hard to set in motion - putting themselves in danger for him again. He knew what he was doing. He was in control, at least enough to sleep without fear, that night.

The others would understand soon enough. They might never want to see or speak to him again, but they would understand. He would make sure of that.

For the time being, he lay alone, in a barren room, staring at a smooth metal wall and allowing himself the indulgence of daydreaming about Lance’s warm hugs and Shiro’s warm whispers.

It was his only comfort as he curled in on himself and finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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